


The Procedure- Dubhan's POV

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Darkine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Christine's coming home from the hospital, but Dubhan's been left in the dark.





	The Procedure- Dubhan's POV

“She’s doing what?!”  
“Dark Two, it’s okay,” Michael’s voice came, cracking, out of the phone. “It’s almost guaranteed to work. She’s consented, Dark One is here, everything is going just f–”  
A gut-wrenching scream came over the speaker.   
His stomach did a flip-flop.   
“Michael.” Dark Two’s voice came out low, guttural. “Let me talk to her. Please."   
Michael’s wince was almost audible.   
"She can’t exactly talk right now, she’s busy, we’re in the middle of–”  
Michael’s feeble excuses were cut off again, this time by Dark’s voice, clearly screaming, “Stop!”  
“Dark Two, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, yeah?”  
There was a click as the phone disconnected, and a surprisingly loud thunk as it dented the wall.   
Dark Two curled himself into a ball, rocking and shaking with the beat of his thoughts.   
“She’s going to be okay, she’s going to be okay. Don’t worry, she’s going to be okay. She’s got to be okay.”  
But what if she’s not?  
He rocked faster, trying to focus on breathing.   
Two hours after he had woken up to find the other two occupants of the house gone, he’d called Michael in a panic.   
Ten minutes after the call, something happened.   
A searing pain shot through his chest, bringing him to the floor of the kitchen. The cup of milk he’d been trying to warm splashed everywhere.   
Dark Two knelt, shaking, and reached for his phone.   
Of fucking course, Michael didn’t pick up.   
Dark Two sent him, Christine, and Dark One a text each, and slowly began to clean up the milk, trying to see if he was starting to turn transparent.   
He dropped the new cup of milk as his phone buzzed.   
We’ll be home in an hour, the text from Michael read.   
No response, his phone beeped, as he tried to check his messages to Dark One.   
No response, his phone beeped, as he tried to check his messages to Christine.   
Dark Two hugged his teddy closer, trying desperately to contact Christine with his mind, trying desperately to see if there was anything he could sense on her end.   
Nothing.   
45 minutes, the clock mocked.   
Dark Two was seriously contemplating running to the hospital himself.   
He was beginning to get mad. How dare no one tell him what was going on? How dare they make Christine do this? How dare they leave him?  
But he knew why, in all honesty.   
He’d freak out.  
Just like you’re doing right now? The voice in his head chided.   
Dark Two pushed the voice back. He had more important things to worry about than his own mental state. Namely, Christine.   
He checked his phone.   
30 minutes.   
No new messages.  
Dark Two couldn’t sit still. He was alone. What if someone broke in now? What if the stove set itself on fire? Why was he worrying about the stove when there was the big 'what if,’ the unfathomable one, sitting above his head? What if Christine is…  
No, he couldn’t think about it. He’d jinx it.   
The carpet was beginning to show a rut where he’d paced. He sat down, antsy, and checked his phone.   
15 minutes.  
No new messages.  
Dark Two paused in the bathroom mirror. He looked himself over, checking for transparency, paleness, anything that told him he was fading.   
Nothing.   
Nothing he could see.   
He tried to take a deep breath, tried to convince himself that she was fine, that he was overreacting.   
And he remembered the scream he heard over the phone.   
He remembered the other Dark’s voice, nearly sobbing, as he screamed for it to stop.   
He remembered Michael’s curt, strained tone.   
And he tried not to cry.   
He tried to be brave, because regardless of where Christine was, he knew that she’d want him to be brave.   
Dark Two scrambled for his phone as it buzzed.   
The timer had gone off.   
0 minutes.  
A car pulled itself wearily into the driveway.   
Thunk.  
Thunk.  
Dark Two ran to the door, freezing in the front hall.   
Two car doors had slammed.   
Two car doors had slammed.  
Two.  
He saw Michael’s head first, through the windows. Damn his height.  
Michael looked tired.   
That couldn’t be good.   
Michael’s Dark was a hyperactive, coffee-pumped, pep-talking kind of guy.   
Michael, of all people, couldn’t be tired.  
Someone rang the doorbell futilely. Dark One.  
Dark Two was frozen in place. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t open that door and confirm or deny his worst fear.   
Dark One obviously had a key. The doorknob rattled for a moment. Then swung open slowly, like something out of a horror movie.   
For Dark Two, it might as well have been.   
Dark One stood there, looking in that moment tired and broken, eyes redder than usual.   
But it wasn’t Dark One that he saw first.   
Christine.   
She looked small and pale, curled in his arms.   
Her eyes were shut tight, her face almost peaceful.   
She wasn’t moving.   
She wasn’t moving.  
She wasn’t moving.  
Why wasn’t she moving?  
Something cold and black swooped over Dark Two.   
Something hard and sharp hit him in the chest.   
Something broke.   
Dark Two couldn’t process it, couldn’t comprehend it, was certain that the evidence of all his senses must be lying– Christine could not be dead.  
His knees gave way under him as Dark One stepped over the threshold, Christine’s body limp in his arms. Dark One looked up to see Dark Two’s eyes tracing Christine, waiting for the telltale rise of her chest that signaled the expansion of her lungs, that betrayed her impression of death.   
It never came.   
Dark One yelled something over his shoulder to the tall, hovering shadow the was Michael.   
Dark Two quite suddenly realized he was crying, his chest heaving with great sobs, arms shaking as he tried not to fall to the floor.   
This, then, was what fading felt like.   
His ears were filled with a strange buzzing, drowning out Michael’s approaching footsteps, drowning out Michael’s concerned shouts for his attention.   
His vision was misty, tears and strange spots blacking out the vision of Christine, not breathing, still cradled in the other Dark’s arms.   
And then his chest seized up: and he stopped breathing too.   
Dark Two woke slowly. He didn’t open his eyes just yet. Where was he? What happened?  
Oh.  
Dark Two didn’t ever want to open his eyes, if it meant looking at a world without her.   
He was comfortable, here. His head was pillowed, blankets tucked around him. Maybe this was heaven?   
He sniffed, breathed, wishing Christine had done the same.   
He smelled her perfume at the same time he registered someone sitting on the bed next to him.   
Dark Two’s eyes flew open.   
He was in his bedroom, the blinds drawn.   
And Christine was sitting next to him.  
Maybe this was heaven.   
Dark Two reached out slowly to grab her hand, to assure himself that she wasn’t a figment of his own imagination. She squeezed his fingers with a small, albeit weak, smile.   
“I’m right here.”  
Oh, it was good to hear her voice.  
“This is heaven, isn’t it?” His voice was smaller than he expected.   
Christine just looked at him. “What do you think this is?”  
“It must be heaven. You’re here. You were dead, and now you’re here.”  
Christine chuckled softly. “I’m not dead if I’m here, am I?”  
“I dunno, Christine. Angels are pretty weird…”  
Dark Two smiled.   
“I’m glad you’re here.”  
He drifted back off to sleep, comforted by the presence of his angel.


End file.
